Featured Essays Project Hail Mary The Deep Humanity of Project Hail Mary What are we trying to save? By Rachel Kessler | Published on May 6, 2026 Credit: Amazon MGM Studios Comment 0 Share New Share Credit: Amazon MGM Studios A couple years ago, during one of my frequent visits to my local bookstore, the manager mentioned a book he had just started about a guy who wakes up on a medical table on a space ship with no memory and no idea how we got there. I thought: that sounds like it could make for a great audiobook if the narrator is up for it! I immediately downloaded it and discovered that, yes indeed, Ray Porter was more than up for the task of narrating Andy Weir’s Project Hail Mary: the story of science teacher Rylan Grace who finds himself cast into space light years away from earth as part of a the last-ditch long shot hope (a “hail Mary”, if you will) for humanity’s survival.  I will admit, I didn’t expect to love Project Hail Mary as much as I do. I have always been more drawn to fantasy and space opera over “hard” science fiction (it’s a running joke with the aforementioned manager of the local bookstore—if he’s going to recommend a book by a white guy it had better be for a good reason). I also tend to like more character-driven stories over heavy plotting. Project Hail Mary definitely has its share of lengthy passages involving dense biology. One might note the overall plot stakes are fairly high: will humanity survive another thirty years? Weir accomplishes the feat of balancing the impersonal scientific elements and the extreme stakes of the novel with nuanced character work. Indeed, even the more extended scientific bits in the book serve as a demonstration of Grace’s character as he works out various problems and solutions. Project Hail Mary succeeds so well not just because it is a good work of science fiction or because it is at times incredibly funny or even poignant but because at its core it is a story of what makes humanity worth saving. More specifically, it is a story that invites us to remember the value and worth of humanity exists not in the abstract but in the concrete and imperfect reality of who we are as people living in connection with one another.    It was inevitable that a film adaptation of Weir’s work would minimize the intricate science so well conveyed in the book (Even my biology professor friend who saw the film with me shrugged away the lackluster science, until Gosling made the unforgivable mistake of failing to balance a centrifuge). Where the film succeeds is by capturing that thematic heart at the core of Grace’s journey and, most significantly, his relationship with the alien he appropriately names Rocky.  Credit: Amazon MGM Studios At the center of Weir’s story about the existential threat to humanity is the friendship between Grace and Rocky—two individuals alone in space each looking for a way to save their dying suns. Perhaps the greatest decision the filmmakers made in this adaptation was to make Rocky a puppet rather than an intangible CGI image—shout out to puppeteer Jim Ortiz who also provided the voice of Rocky. This is where we also need to sing the praises of puppetry and practical effects over the proliferation of impersonal green screen technology in media. I am a longtime fan of the late 90s-early 2000s series Farscape, which prominently featured a cast of characters from the Jim Henson creature shop. I recall a great story about Ben Browder (who played human astronaut John Crichton) one day making the choice to physically grab Dominar Rygel the 16th, one of his puppet co-stars. While the production team stared in horror at the indelicacy with which Browder manhandled the puppet, Browder appreciated the power offered to the scene by embracing the physicality of puppets.  The role of the puppetry and the weight of Gosling and Ortiz’s performances make the friendship between Grace and Rocky feel lived in: this is not just a case of two lonely individuals thrown together to solve a shared problem. The scene where Rocky decides to move into Grace’s ship, leaving Grace to opine to his video logs about his resulting lack of privacy is supremely relatable! The filmmakers balance the humor of Rocky with truly heartfelt moments where Rocky shares, for example, the wistful longing for their mate. In a story that explores the lengths we will go to in order to save humanity as a collective, Weir (and, by extension, the filmmakers) offer us a highly personal, private friendship. That juxtaposition is intentional.  As Grace recovers his memories, he and the audience both learn the major twist about how he wound up alone is space. Grace didn’t volunteer to undergo a mission that would end in his certain death. When all other options are lost, Grace is just the one person left with enough knowledge to potentially complete the mission (and, as specified in the book, with the right genetic conditions to survive the induced coma he must undergo in the process). Grace is not a hero. Neither is he a villain. He is, to put it simply, human. Perhaps we can extend another comparison to Farscape here in John Crichton’s great line: “I am not Kirk, Spock, Luke, Buck, Flash or Arthur frelling Dent. I’m Dorothy Gale from Kansas.”  It is not a flaw in Grace’s character that he cannot bring himself to willingly submit himself to certain death for the sake of humanity. We are limited creatures. Humanity (and by extension the concept of human extinction) is a hard concept to grasp, much less for which to make the ultimate sacrifice. This “everyman” character of Grace is what draws the audience into the heart of the film. Sometimes we need stories of aspirational heroes, and sometimes we need stories with characters that let us see the imperfect but beautiful messiness of humanity.   Despite his unheroic backstory, Grace is given an opportunity for redemption through his friendship with Rocky. When Grace discovers that the “taumeoba” he and Rocky are taking back to their respective planets is capable of escaping containment and will consume their fuel, he is faced with a choice. Grace can use the additional astrophage Rocky gave him to return to earth, or Grace can use his fuel reserves to find and save Rocky. If I have a quibble with the film it is that the script could have made it clearer that Grace is certain he is dooming himself with this decision—he has no food for long-term survival and he cannot eat Rocky’s food. (Alas, the film does not explore Grace’s future survival on Erid by eating “me-burgers”, protein cloned from his own tissue). Grace could not sacrifice himself for the abstract concept of humanity. He can, and does, sacrifice himself for the sake of a friend.  Credit: Amazon MGM Studios Both Grace’s moments of cowardice and self-sacrifice are fundamentally human. As both the book and the film wrestle with the existential questions of human survival, Grace’s personal journey forces us to ask what of humanity is worth preserving absent the particularities of who we are as people and the complexity of our relationships. Consider that in watching the film, we as the audience likely have a more immediate visceral reaction to Rocky’s burned, broken body after exposure to oxygen to save Grace than we do to the overarching stakes of humanity’s survival. Jim Ortiz has stated that he chose to play Rocky intentionally as “everybody’s little brother.” Much like Grace, we as the audience come to love Rocky. We love Rocky’s cleverness, as well as his idiosyncrasies (“fist my bump”). We love his earnestness in watching Grace sleep, as much as we share Grace’s frustration with an unintended and overbearing roommate. Rocky may not have fact, but it is a credit to Ortiz’s performance that we know every moment what Rocky is feeling and we rightly fear for him when his body is burned and broken from the Hail Mary’s oxygen-rich atmosphere.  It is narratively satisfying that, to a greater degree than the novel, the film offers confirmation that “Project Hail Mary” succeeds in saving the sun. Emotionally, however, the ultimate happy ending remains in the ongoing friendship between Rocky and Grace. That is a feature, not a flaw, of Weir’s story about the nature of humanity and person-to person connection. And, yes Rocky is 100% a person.  If there is a particular identifiable strength in the film version of Project Hail Mary over the source material, it is in this emphasis on the humanness of its characters. The prime example occurs in how the book and film each handle the character of Eva Stratt, director of the titular “Project Hail Mary.” Throughout the book, Stratt is a woman with a singular focus on the survival of the human race. She will sacrifice anyone and anything, including Grace, for this greater purpose. Indeed, it eventually becomes clear she’s kept Grace close to her through the work on Project Hail Mary not for any particular skills he possesses but because his genetic make up renders him a viable candidate for the mission. He’s a valuable (and ultimately necessary) back up science officer. One might argue Stratt’s single-minded and heartless focus is vital for the survival of the human race—even Stratt herself does not understand her own actions as admirable or virtuous. On some level, Stratt accepts that she is trading her own soul for the greater survival of the human race. Stratt’s inability to see only humanity as a whole with no framework for particular people is, in essence, a betrayal of her own humanity. In the film, Stratt comes across much more sympathetically, largely thanks to the performance of Sandra Hüller. Hüller’s performance noticeably softens the clinical coldness of Stratt’s character on the page. Early in the film, Grace questions whether he is allowed to observe the mysterious life form consuming the sun because he is expendable. Stratt’s response (after consulting with other leading scientists) of “We agree it would be preferable if you did not die” comes across as dryly funny, when it so easily could have been cold and impersonal. The audience also feels that Stratt harbors regret that she must send Grace on the one-way trip to Tau Ceti, but also that she does ultimately believe in Grace’s ability to complete his mission. She has come to respect him personally, far more than as a last-ditch fail safe. I cannot accept the hint of romantic tension between Grace and Stratt in the film (which may be less intentional in the script and more due to Gosling’s ability to have chemistry with, quite literally, a rock). Nevertheless, I appreciate the moments of true human connection the film offers Stratt’s character. Credit: Amazon MGM Studios No matter the existential stakes we may face, what is worth preserving in our humanity if we cannot find a moment to sing Harry Styles’ “Sign of the Times” with friends at karaoke?  Project Hail Mary is one of the most entertaining cinematic experiences I have had in a very long time. It’s also an incredibly important story for where we find ourselves in this particular historical moment. The sun is not being actively consumed by alien organisms, but there is no doubt we are up against threats to our own survival, from climate catastrophe or the “transhumanist” ideologies of tech billionaires. As we think about the existential issues facing our world, Project Hail Mary challenges us to ask: what are we trying to save? What does it mean to be human in the first place? The sincere heart at the core of both Weir’s novel and translated to the screen is not a passive or naive hope about the triumph of human goodness. It is a challenge and an invitation to recognize the point of our humanity is precisely our messiness, imperfections, and peculiarities. As Rocky would say: “Fist my bump!”[end-mark] The post The Deep Humanity of <em>Project Hail Mary</em> appeared first on Reactor.